


When You've Got A Good Thing

by scifiromance



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Time, Post-Endgame, Romance, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifiromance/pseuds/scifiromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dealing with her late parents' estate, as well as trying to adapt to her new life on Earth, doesn't prevent Seven becoming apprehensive as her first Valentine's Day with Chakotay approaches... <br/>C/7. Slight Valentine's theme. Post-Endgame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Transitions

“If you would unlock the door for us please Ms Hansen?” Mr Gregory Platt, senior partner in the law firm Platt, Matheson and Baker, instructed politely. He was seemingly unaware, or choosing to discreetly ignore, the discomfort evident on the faces of the two women in front of him as they stood at the front door of his late clients’ main residence on Earth.

Seven of Nine, the younger of the two women, was however painfully aware of her aunt’s unease. She’d been watching Irene out of the corner of her eye since before they’d entered the high-rise block, which was still impressively sleek thirty years after being built, and even now as the anticipation of this ordeal neared its end, Irene toyed apprehensively with the PADD she held, every so often passing it from hand to hand. When Platt spoke however, she stilled, her face eerily calm. “Of course.” She answered crisply, glancing down briefly at the PADD before nimbly dialling the access code. As the doors slid smoothly open, Seven suspected that Irene hadn’t needed to refer to the PADD, she’d already confided to her that she came to check on the place two or three times a year. Although it was only a month since she’d met her aunt in person for the first time since her assimilation, the day Voyager had landed back on Earth in fact, Seven knew her aunt had as sharp a memory now that she was approaching seventy as she’d ever had. She probably just didn’t want to give this lawyer the impression that she’d been brooding over the loss to excess, but as this thought about her aunt occurred to her Seven conceded that it was more applicable to herself. “Annika, dear.” Irene’s gentle hand on her elbow pulled her sharply out of her reverie, “Come in.”

Seven nodded a little too quickly, inclining her head downwards to avoid the lawyer’s lofty gaze as she hurriedly followed her aunt’s lead into the apartment. She felt the irrational urge to take a deep breath but found herself exhaling in relief instead as she looked around the space. It was just an ordinary, vacant apartment. Well, perhaps ‘ordinary’ was an inaccurate description, it was significantly bigger than the one Chakotay was renting, by several hundred metres or more, and the open plan living area in which the three of them now stood was impressive despite its sparsely furnished state. The kitchen was a graceful arc of curved burgundy units and modern appliances, smart by anyone’s standards, while the sitting area was set down two small steps to take full advantage of the expansive window, which offered a panoramic view of San Francisco’s skyline. Platt wasn’t taken in by the view however, instead studying the condition of the apartment as a whole, constantly making notes on the large PADD he had resting on the crook of his elbow. “I believe that you’ve been renting this place out since your brother and his wife left Ms Hansen?” he asked in a pedantic tone.

“That’s right.” Irene confirmed, “Magnus and Erin gave me power of attorney over their affairs when they left to ensure that everything would be taken care of until they...” She caught herself abruptly, rubbing a strained hand over her brow as she glanced momentarily at her niece, whose only reaction was a slight tensing of her jaw.

Platt eyed her warily, “As I’m sure you’re aware, that arrangement is now null and void, with the incumbent responsibilities transferred on to the two Dr Hansens’ designated heir.” He paused, turning his insipid but careful gaze onto Seven, “That is if you still wish to proceed with the process to make your parents legally dead…”

Seven couldn’t quite stop a frustrated, tired sigh from rattling her chest as she answered, lips tightly pressed together, “My separation from the Collective as a living individual was a very rare anomaly, it is highly likely that they will die as drones. If that situation ever changes I’m certain they will attend to the correcting legal paperwork themselves.” She informed him tersely.

Platt cleared his throat, visibly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I should really know better after thirty three years as a probate lawyer, but the system of inheritance doesn’t have any clauses in it regarding assimilation. Your situation is even more unique in that you’ve…recovered from that yourself.”

Seven winced at his choice of words, that she had ‘recovered’ wouldn’t be how she would describe her often torturous transition to individuality on board Voyager. She merely had to look at her own reflection, or analyse awkward social exchanges exactly like this one, to know that she’d never be able to revert to, or more accurately restart, the life of the six year old Annika Hansen. Her memory of her existence as a drone wouldn’t fade like a defeated illness. She smoothed her face skilfully back to her customary mask, determined to keep her emotions reined in. Surprise startled her momentarily as she saw true empathy in the lawyer’s quiet, prematurely aged face, and her own expression softened a little in return, her guard falling back momentarily. Perhaps she’d misjudged the man, she knew from her short foray into researching probate law when this issue arose that it was a certified minefield of legal wrangling and emotional strain. This man had probably been trying to make life as easy as possible for them all. Irene had told her as much before the appointment to calm her, but she only believed it now. “I understand.” She told him, stiffly but sincerely, “I…apologise for phrasing my point in that manner, I realise that this is a difficult and complex situation for all involved.”

Platt gave her a tentative smile, “It is, but you’ve done well so far, both of you.” His eyes shifted to Irene respectfully. “I’ll just complete my appraisal of the property and then we’re finished for the day.”

“Thanks.” Irene agreed warmly, waiting until he’d disappeared into another room with his ubiquitous PADD before laying a comforting hand on Seven’s arm once again, “Do you want to look around Annika? There’s nothing belonging to your parents here anymore, I brought in new furniture for the tenants, but…”

Seven’s gaze scanned the room again for an instant. She could recognise little, perhaps vague flickers of the view from the window, but nothing else tugged at her memory. The relief she had felt at that realisation when she’d first entered was still her strongest emotion, but neither could she ignore the heaviness of regret and sadness building in the back of her throat with every further minute she spent here. “I’d rather not Aunt Irene.” She admitted eventually after a few long seconds of silence, feeling a layer of shame build up as she met the older woman’s gaze, what right did she have to reject her parents? They’d made terrible mistakes, errors she still wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to completely forgive, but she’d never really doubted that they had loved her. The tattered fragments of her childhood that remained at least assured her of that, which was more than some people could say. However her aunt’s eyes, uncannily similar to her own, reflected no judgement when she met them, instead concern and affection.

“That’s fine.” She murmured simply in reply, taking Seven’s human hand and giving it a light squeeze. “You’ve had a lot to cope with Anni, settling here on Earth. I wish I could’ve dealt with this burden for you…”

Seven shook her head firmly, “No.” she answered as she studied her aunt’s face. Irene was a reassuringly bright person, but Seven could see the toll the years of suspended grief had taken on her and was suddenly as glad that she could help Irene as she was relieved that she wasn’t trying to struggle with this unaided. “Do not feel anxious for me Aunt Irene, it cannot be helped, by either of us.” She allowed herself a restrained sigh, “Soon it will be over.” She found herself mentally repeating the mantra as Irene replied with a strained smile.

“I’ll just go and see if he’s nearly finished shall I?” she suggested softly, observant enough to see Seven’s gaze flitting around distractedly.

Seven nodded, her attention shifting to the window again as she heard Irene’s steps move away, then her hushed conversation with Platt. She doubted either realised how enhanced her hearing was, and thus walked slowly over to the window to go out of earshot, or at least that was the excuse she gave her rational mind. She stood there stock still, her legs brushing against the low set but prominent windowsill. The sun was beginning to break through the famous San Francisco clouds, winning a battle it had been fighting since midday. Something about this scene, the soaring building, the glimpses of the Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge on the edge of the image, was teasing her memory but she wasn’t sure why. A realisation came to her and she slipped silently down onto her knees, the haze around the still vague recollection lifting as she saw the room from this height, a closer approximation to how she’d seen the room as a three year old, before her parents had taken her away on the Raven. Her quilted play mat, pink and yellow squares with red hearts in the centre, had been spread out here. She’d used the wide windowsill as a surface for her toys when Mama or Papa was using the big table. Her red headed ragdoll, Pippi, had had such long legs that the cotton feet had almost brushed the carpet when sitting there. Then there had been her wooden farm animal set, and most often the toy spaceships that Papa had made for her. That was why she’d taken his model of a Borg Cube from his desk that one time; she’d thought Papa would be pleased to see it flying with her spaceships…

The past, for those few lost moments vivid and real, abandoned her abruptly as a warm hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present. She gave a short, startled gasp but relaxed immediately as she recognised the person crouching behind her. “Chakotay…” She breathed.

“Hey.” He replied quietly, moving his hand away from its comfortable spot between her shoulder blades so he could curl his whole arm around her slender waist. “Are you okay?”

Seven saw his face, just above her own, reflected in the glass of the window and saw his concern for her etched in every fine little line that furrowed around his soulful dark eyes. For a short, selfish second, she was preoccupied by the thought of how different they appeared, the mutilation of her implants even more stark when given the backdrop of his attractive and untarnished face. The cruel irony that she’d once played with a toy Cube in this very spot hit her with renewed force as she gingerly accepted his offer of comfort and leaned back against his solid torso. He kissed the back of her neck lightly as she did so but she saw the worry flash through his eyes before they were hidden behind her hair and remembered to answer, “I’m fine.” She murmured, only realising now how worrying it would be for him to see her kneeling on the floor of her dead parents’ former home, staring at nothing. “I am.” She assured him with more conviction, offering him a faint but real smile as she placed her hand over the one he had laying over her bellybutton.

His sigh of relief was subtle, but she could feel his warm breath stroking her neck so felt very aware of it. “Good.” He said, returning her smile with a stronger one of his own.

Seven suddenly realised that he wasn’t meant to be there and stiffened in his arms in self-denial. “Why are you here? You’re scheduled to be at a meeting with Starfleet discussing formal commissions for Voyager’s Maquis crewmembers…”

Chakotay chuckled at her tone; she knew his schedule better than he did right now, the few weeks since Voyager’s return had been very hectic. “Don’t worry, I’m not tardy, they finally announced a lunch break so I came over to see how you were doing here.”

Seven was touched and found herself blinking rapidly as the tears summoned by her minutes alone in her memories returned. She was finding it more difficult to restrain such outward signs of emotion since having her failsafe removed; thankfully that procedure had been more than worth it. She regained control quickly and said hastily, “Mr Platt has been professional and efficient.”

Chakotay paused, leaning forward so that his chin rested on her shoulder, “That’s great of course honey, but…” He sighed as he thought of a way to phrase what he knew this ordeal must feel like to Seven, who was already struggling with the culture shock of Earth, but he couldn’t think of anything particularly inspiring. “It’s still difficult for you.”

Seven was somewhat relieved he didn’t say that as a question, he knew her well enough to know that she was use such an escape clause, but right now she felt the need to confide, however confused such a confession would be. “Yes, it certainly is.” She whispered, exhaling heavily before straightening again, “I am concerned for my Aunt Irene, I know that this procedure is upsetting for her.”

Chakotay shifted to return to rubbing soothing circles into her tense back as he sighed sympathetically himself. “It would be for anyone Seven, but she’s a strong woman, that’s a family trait after all.”

Seven gave him a wan but wry smile as reply to that before twisting around to put her lips softly to his, but it was too short a moment as she saw Platt and Irene standing behind them through her half-closed lids.

Chakotay’s eyes twinkled at her reassuringly as he caught her faint blush; he always found that pink hue, exotic on her well-known face, prettily charming. After helping her stand, he shook Platt’s hand, entirely nonplussed, and smiled warmly at Irene. “I hope you don’t mind me joining you for a few minutes…” He began after his introductions to Platt were complete.

Irene cut him off with a determined shake of her head, silver hair gleaming in the sun streaming from the window. “No Chakotay, not at all.” She assured him, her regretful mood happily lifting as she saw her niece relaxed in her former First Officer’s tender hold.

“I’ve collected enough information for now anyway.” Platt informed them, looking Seven directly in the eye as he set his PADD aside for the moment. “Are you still set on your decision to sell this property?” he asked carefully, “Its value has risen exponentially since your parents bought it, but most people in the city rent, the yields would be very good…”

“No.” Seven answered, allowing herself one last sweeping glance around the apartment before her gaze returned to Platt with a tiny shiver. “I still want to sell it…please.” She looked to Chakotay for a split second. Perhaps he’d think the decision irrational, and in all ways but one it was. The arrangements for the, now officially former, Voyager crew were in disarray, most people were still living with their families a month later as they tried to decide what to do now, but her situation was more complex. Her alcove had been successfully disengaged from the Cargo Bay, but as yet they hadn’t been able to find many buildings capable of handling the power outlay, so for the past few weeks she’d been staying at the Pathfinder Project’s offices, a situation she knew Chakotay wasn’t happy with. He probably though it was silly for her to sell a property that was now entirely her own and within which she could put in her alcove. However, he confounded her train of thought by giving her hand a supportive squeeze and warm relief filled her, her emotional dislike of this place must have been obvious to this perceptive man.

Platt gave a decisive nod, “I’ll put it up immediately then.” He told her, making another quick note on his PADD, “I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear that the transfer of your parents’ patents has been completed, they’re in your name and under your control.”

Seven suddenly understood the phrase ‘a weight off of your shoulders’ when she heard those words and for once didn’t attempt to hide her relief. “That is good news.”

Platt cleared his throat awkwardly, “If I may ask, why exactly did you instruct for the patents to take priority over the rest of the estate?  Usually families try to avoid that scientific wrangling for as long as they can…”

Chakotay, seeing the telltale signs of Seven withdrawing into herself, quietly answered for her. “Starfleet has been pressurising Seven to release the rights to her parents’ inventions relating to their Borg research.”

Irene clamped a hand to her mouth, paling visibly as she stared at Seven in disbelief. “No! Oh Annika, surely they wouldn’t…”

“Precisely my reaction.” Seven replied tersely, “That is why I must legally have the patents to be able to deny them, but they will persist over time no doubt.”

“Don’t say that my love.” Irene chastened gently, “Hasn’t your Admiral Janeway stepped in to make them back off?” she asked tightly.

“She has strongly advised them to ‘back off’ as you put it Aunt Irene, but she is not the only Admiral in Starfleet…” Seven answered tiredly.

“That particular Admiral will keep telling them though, don’t worry.” Chakotay commented firmly before addressing the lawyer himself, “Anyway, now that Seven has the patents they can’t do anything without her permission, right?”

“Right.” Platt confirmed, “There would be absolutely no way.” He smiled, it wasn’t often he could ease his clients’ minds so definitively as a probate lawyer, “Now that we’ve sorted that out and what’s to be done with this property, we only need to deal with the lab in the Dr Hansens’ names in Gothenburg. Can you make it over to Sweden next week?”

Seven nodded slowly, while shooting her aunt a quizzical look. “I should be able to.”

“Good, call my office and I’ll make you an appointment with Larsen, you’ve met him haven’t you? He’s our representative in Scandinavia.” He waited for Seven’s nod before heading for the door, “I’ll leave you now then, I have another appointment.”

“Thank you for your time.” Seven said formally, earning a quick smile from the not so staid after all lawyer as he left.

Irene answered her niece’s unspoken question as soon as Platt had gone. “Your parents did their lab work in Gothenburg even while they lived here. It had been specially designed for them with the help of their old colleagues at the University there; Magnus was very particular about things like that so he never thought of having another here instead.” She explained, adding nostalgically, “It was when they were working there that you’d come and stay with me in Stockholm.”

A tentative smile pulled of remembrance pulled at Seven’s lips, “I liked helping you with your strawberry patch…”

Irene laughed, “It was more like helping me to eat my strawberry patch dear.”

Chakotay smiled as Seven giggled lightly. He was glad that she’d reconnected with her only close relative, and of course that that particular relative had turned out be such an easy-going, nurturing presence. Kathryn had tried her best, but she was better at the instructing, disciplinary facet of mothering than the simple reassurance Seven needed more than ever now that Voyager was back on Earth. Seven noticed the expression on his face and raised a teasing eyebrow delicately before her face fell, “Don’t you have to go back to your meeting with Starfleet Chakotay?”

“Yes, don’t let us hold you back.” Irene assured him quickly.

Chakotay gave Seven’s hand one last squeeze as he smiled at both women. There was an uncanny familial resemblance between them; to look at Irene’s youthful face boded well for Seven when she was older. He’d noticed that when she was with her, Seven’s controlled voice took on a definite hint of Irene’s melodious Swedish accent, which was strong even under the influence of the universal translator, something Chakotay found very endearing. “Don’t worry; they’re probably past their eternal stalemate without me there.” He joked.

“I doubt that.” Seven remarked drily, having heard the details of all the previous meetings from him, “Have you actually had any lunch on this break or did you come here instead?” she asked worriedly, just realising how much this detour to support her had derailed his schedule.

“I’ll just replicate a sandwich when I get back…” Chakotay began dismissively, half sighing and half chuckling when he read Seven’s frown of disapproval, “I’m fine Seven, really.” He cupped her face in his hands and tilted it upwards to kiss her, “I’ll see you later.” He murmured softly, drawing reluctantly back with a nod to Irene as he headed for the door but then paused as he took one last look around the empty apartment, recalling Seven’s lost expression when he’d found her, “How about I come with you to Gothenburg next week? I’ve never been to Sweden.”

Seven smiled knowingly at his not so subtle attempt to continue helping her with this situation but was intensely grateful none the less. “I’d like that very much Chakotay.”

Chakotay flashed her one last warm grin before he left at a near run to go back to his meeting. Irene was loathe to interrupt the peace that had settled over her niece’s face. “He’s a good man Annika.” She murmured quietly in approval when Seven finally looked back at her.

“Better than either of us realise I suspect.” Seven answered dreamily before abruptly leaving her reverie, “Would you like me to walk with you back to the transporter depot?”

“Of course dear.” Irene agreed happily.

* * *

 

They took a less travelled route from the apartment back to San Francisco’s transporter depot, since Seven’s dislike of crowds persisted, but unfortunately she was still confronted with enough to unsettle her. The shops and cafés lining the streets were promoting Valentine’s Day to excess, at least in her mind. Heart shaped cupcakes and pink tinted hot chocolate was on offer, stalls overflowed with lollipops and cuddly toys, romantic getaways were pictured on every billboard… The Ferengi may regularly denounce humanity for giving up pure capitalism, but in Seven’s mind they could certainly still sell a celebration. Neelix would’ve been delighted and proud, he’d thrown himself into the sprit last year, stumbling onto his impromptu party in the Mess Hall had contributed to her entering into her holodeck simulations. She shivered slightly, feelings of inadequacy surging through her disconcertingly. She hadn’t told the real Chakotay about his being the subject of her holodeck fantasies and she doubted that she ever would, confiding about the failsafe had been testing enough, going further would be embarrassing. She thought she’d made her peace with that decision, but walking through this Valentine world made her uncertain of herself. What did she know about relationships really? For how long would Chakotay be willing to humour her naivety?

Irene had been watching the shadows flickering over her niece for the past several minutes of their silent walk before finally losing patience. Stopping mid-step, she firmly grasped Seven’s shoulders as the young woman peered at her in distracted confusion. “Min älskling, are you going to tell me what you’re fretting about?” she asked, her voice affectionate but serious.

Seven winced, but quickly fought the idea that she’d been caught out by instead analysing her aunt’s word use. The translator built into her implants was more advanced than any known by the Federation, she could hear anything in most languages in its true form and a translation simultaneously, but she didn’t need that for Irene, having been raised bilingually by her Swedish father and American mother anyway; the word merely triggered a memory. “Min älskling, Papa called me that…min liten älskling…”

Irene nodded, “Of course Annika, you were the most important person in his life. He’d still call you his liten flicka too no doubt if he were here even if you have grown into a beautiful woman now.” Her lips gave a regretful twist as she said this, her eyes misting over, but she wasn’t about to let her niece distract her that much. “You haven’t answered me Annika, what’s bothering you?”

Seven almost retorted with ‘nothing’ but bit her lip; it felt disrespectful to her aunt. Instead she sighed heavily, taking the cacophony of shops into a sweeping glance as she did so. “I do not believe I possess sufficient experience in romance Aunt Irene.” She admitted ruefully.

Irene’s brows furrowed, “For Chakotay you mean?” she finished carefully, smiling a little when Seven just bowed her head, “Annika, I think you’re getting the wrong impression. No one, no woman and certainly no man, expects their partner to go to the extremes for Valentine’s Day that these shops seem to want them to. It’s just a mass selling tactic…”

Seven developed a doubtful, skittish look. “I had begun to fear this before Valentine’s Day approached Aunt Irene…”

“Annika, you’ve barely been on Earth for a month and it’s been so stressful for both you and Chakotay, and it’s a new relationship too, I don’t think he’d like you to be worrying…” Irene tried to reason, but saw that her points weren’t getting through. “Alright, what have you been doing with him then, since you don’t seem to think it’s enough?”

Seven swallowed apprehensively, “I spend time at his new accommodation, we…talk, he’s very humorous. I make meals for us or we go out to a restaurant. We went to the ball celebrating Voyager’s return together, he taught me how to dance in the Cargo Bay, he said the Doctor’s previous instructions were too formal…” She trailed off, peering at her aunt for approval, who couldn’t hold back her smile, both charmed and amused.

“It sounds like you’ve been perfectly romantic. Remember that romance is in the eye of the beholder, I don’t think many people would be dissatisfied with all that at all. Your Uncle Harold, God rest his soul, was delighted if I cooked for him some days and that we talked everyday! Relationships are more than just romantic gestures Annika, Chakotay strikes me as a man who understands that and you should too.”

Seven’s posture straightened as she heard the sense in Irene’s words but her fears obviously weren’t completely abated. “I don’t want to disappoint…to fail him Aunt Irene.”

Irene touched Seven’s face fondly, making her look at her directly. “I don’t think you could disappoint him Annika, he _loves_ you.” She let her hand drop from her face to squeeze Seven’s cybernetic hand, “Keep that in mind min flicka, okay?”

Seven nodded, summoning up a smile to reassure her aunt. “I will.” She replied bravely.

**A/n: PLEASE REVIEW! :D I hope you want to see what I’ve got planned for this! For reference, ‘min älskling’ means ‘my darling’ in Swedish and ‘liten flicka’ means ‘little girl’. I know foreign phrases like that aren’t used much in Trek canon but I really enjoyed my holiday in Stockholm years ago and I’m a language nerd.**

 

 

 


	2. Not Just for Valentine's Day

A tiny, but still irrepressibly impatient sigh left Seven’s lips as she again shifted awkwardly on the uncomfortable metal bench. “These constant delays are highly inefficient.” She muttered under her breath, not intending to be heard, but Chakotay, as attentive as ever, reached over and placed his warm, steady hand over both of hers which were clenched in her lap.

“Larsen tried his best to speed this up at his office, but apparently some of that paperwork was unavoidable.” He reminded her, gently tightening his hold around her cybernetic hand and pulling it onto his knee, his fingertips absently tracing the veins of cool metal. “After today everything should be over with.” He murmured reassuringly, allowing himself a small smile when Seven relaxed a little, her upright frame leaning into his shoulder. He very much doubted that anyone outside of their tiny Voyager command circle, it might only have been him who’d realised, but Seven of Nine was a persistent, if silent, worrier under her Borg veneer of detachment. How touched and relieved he was to see her rely on him still surprised him even after all they’d been through since Admiral Janeway had decided to change the path their lives would take.

“Yes, it should be.” Seven couldn’t help but put a dark emphasis on ‘should’, so many things in her life ‘should’ have been simple but weren’t. “It appears that Dr Henriksen’s lecture is running late.” She commented, glancing down the empty corridor in which the bench they sat on stood, the flow of Gothenburg University students they’d seen flowing smoothly out of classes had slowed to a lazy trickle now that the time had slipped past 1700 hours. Most of the room and buildings visible around them had already wound down with the Sun as the daylight, still a treasured few hours in a Swedish February day, drew to end and the darkness of evening descended.

“We’ll just need to book a later transport then.” Chakotay replied easily, “We could go back via Stockholm if you want, go and see Irene for a while?”

Seven smiled at him, astounded by his generosity. He had been a model of calm for her to follow during this long day, a day which should have been a break for him. First he’d joined her for a dissection of the convoluted collection of assets in Sweden which were now hers, including not only what she had inherited from her parents but what her paternal grandparents had optimistically left to their lost son. Considering the fact that, incomprehensively to her efficiency focused mind, the legal situation here was entirely different from what Mr Platt had already explained to her in San Francisco then to describe the day’s discussions as ‘complicated’ would’ve been an understatement. Now, after all that, Chakotay had willingly accompanied her to find a former colleague of her parents who apparently had the only key to their old lab here in Gothenburg. She couldn’t quite believe it, especially since today was Valentine’s Day. She didn’t even think her aunt, with her dismissal of the holiday, would’ve deemed how this day had turned out as appropriately romantic. Yet Chakotay seemed totally unperturbed, to the point where she fretted over her exploitation of his accommodating nature, surely to his detriment. “Actually, when I spoke to Aunt Irene earlier she offered to arrange a hotel for us…” Seven began awkwardly, her stilted tone speeding up too much as she felt herself begin to blush at her presumptuousness. “Of course, if you need to return to San Francisco immediately, then…”

Chakotay squeezed her hand that he was still holding on his lap to stop her, looking into her blushing face affectionately, he’d been learning to anticipate when she would overanalyse things. “Not at all, your aunt’s definitely got the right idea. We can head home tomorrow at our own pace if we stay the night, we haven’t had a chance to explore the city yet.” He sighed ruefully.

Seven’s stiff shoulders dropped as she acknowledged the proposal, giving him a tentative but happy smile in return. “You’re right.” She admitted softly, shifting position on the bench again to retrieve her phone, just a little bigger than the comm. badges she was familiar with from Voyager. “I will call her now and ask her to arrange it for us.” Chakotay gave her an encouraging grin as she rose and moved away slightly to make the call, his mood improving further when he heard Seven conversing easily with her aunt, quietly but gratefully accepting whatever comforts Irene was providing to smooth over this stressful day.

“Mr Kotay?” Chakotay’s eyes were dragged away from watching Seven as he heard Larsen addressing him, “Is Miss Hansen being called away?” Larsen asked, eyeing Seven, still on the phone with her back to him, apprehensively.

Chakotay shook his head quickly, trying to smile at the young lawyer, who while following Platt’s professionalism to a tee, also seemed to wear a frown of perpetual anxiety. “No, she’s just calling her aunt, she won’t be a moment.” He stood up from the bench to extend his hand to the older man Larsen had brought with him, “Dr Henriksen?” he asked.

“I am.” The man confirmed in a booming voice that perfectly matched his impressive physique. His wide shoulders were barely confined within his lab coat and the thick beard he had twined with his silver head of hair made him somewhat reminiscent of a polar bear. “Call me Lars please, I won’t have any friend of the Hansen family stand on formalities with me.”

“Thanks.” Chakotay responded warmly as the two firmly shook hands, “I’m Chakotay, it’s nice to meet you.”

Lars looked pained for a moment as he saw Seven finish her phone call. “I only wish our meeting was for a happier reason.” He replied mutedly as Seven warily approached.

She exchanged glances between Chakotay and Larsen, the latter wasn’t much help, he’d worked hard on her behalf and was flawlessly polite but Seven had been free of the Collective long enough to recognise when someone was uncomfortable around her, they’d both been glad of Chakotay as a pleasant buffer between their shared awkwardness. Chakotay was regarding the unknown arrival in a friendly manner though, so she guessed who she was. “Dr Henriksen I presume?” She cringed slightly as a minute flinch passed over the man’s face at her unintentionally terse tone.

“You don’t remember me then?” he asked, his voice feigning light-heartedness for a moment before he took hold of her shoulders with a surprisingly gentle touch considering his intimidating appearance. “You’ve grown to be as lovely as Erin and Irene both Annika.” He told her, swallowing as his voice thickened with grief.

Seven normally corrected everyone except her aunt in favour of her designation if they used her birth name, but the genuine sorrow and regret on the man’s lightly lined face stopped her. “Thank you.” She answered quietly, truly appreciating the compliment.

Henriksen gave her arm an awkward pat as he let go of her. “It’s the truth.” He said simply, “I held quite a torch for that aunt of yours when I met her at your christening, even though her husband was a good man.” He smiled to himself, “As for your mother, well, that goes without saying…”

“My aunt did mention you.” Seven assured him, causing him to chuckle.

“She would have.” He replied wryly, sighing as he studied her face, “I’m glad I could help you in some way, I never really did anything else in my role as your godfather.”

Chakotay felt, rather than saw, Seven start beside him. “You were…” He corrected him awkwardly, “… _are_ Seven’s godfather?”

Henriksen’s eyes clouded for a moment, lost in memory. “Yes, Magnus and Erin did me that honour, I was best man at their wedding too. They were two of my closest friends, we worked together for over ten years.” Sensitive to Seven’s pensive, conflicted expression, he moved onto business, “I helped them build their lab, so I suppose it makes sense that they left it in my care.” He turned to move down the hallway, “Shall we head over there?”

Seven nodded gratefully as she too moved forward to walk in step with him. “Thank you.” She murmured, glad that he didn’t feel the need to push his memories of her parents on her to replace the ones that wouldn’t return to her, or those she would never have.

He gave her a supportive, but suddenly wan, smile in return and then proceeded to guide her to the lab in near silence.

* * *

 

The Hansen’s lab was outside the University’s grounds but within walking distance in a non-descript municipal building. It took Henriksen only a moment to open the door for their small group, but he lingered in front of it, shooting Seven an apologetic and guilty look, “It’s not in the state I would’ve liked it for you Annika, but I’ve kept the equipment maintained and cleaned it…” He took a deep breath, wincing, “Otherwise it hasn’t changed since your parents last worked in it twenty six years ago, so prepare yourself.”

“Well, lying unused for so long will have affected the value, but at least we’ll be able to clarify the contents…” Larsen remarked, scribbling on his PADD more frantically than even Platt had. He fell silent as he caught Chakotay and Henriksen’s frowns of censure, but Seven, thankfully, seemed deaf to his tactlessness and stepped through the door as silent and unobtrusive as a shadow.

Despite Henriksen’s well-intentioned warning, one full step into the unnaturally cold room was enough to freeze Seven to the spot. The aged lights, lazy from lack of use, began to splutter into life but Seven’s ocular implant meant she had no need of them. The bile green hue that infused her ‘night vision’, as Tom Paris had termed it, picked out every single piece of the multitude of Borg technology that was littered across the room in excruciating detail. Claustrophobia closed in on her, suddenly she was back on a Cube, standing in an assimilation chamber, malfunctioning implants strewn among amputated limbs deemed inferior to cybernetic replacements, the screams of insignificant individuals ringing in her ears but still overwhelmed by the mighty voice of the Collective…

Chakotay’s hastily suppressed but still audible gasp of horror brought her back to reality, a reality where bright lighting now banished any real resemblance to a Cube, but the clinical nature of the space still made her shudder. Robotically, she drifted between the rows of once sterile but now neglected exam stations. Henriksen hadn’t been lying when he said nothing her parents had worked on had been disturbed, the Petri –dishes  of nanoprobe samples were still sitting carefully catalogued, one such sample even remained in position under a microscope. Larsen stood standing near what her all too knowledgeable eyes recognised as a partially dismantled cortical node, but his stricken expression was wholly directed on a cybernetic arm and leg set laid neatly out on one table, the assimilation tubes built into the arm half extended. He moved away in relief as Seven approached, the spell broken, but it was cast even stronger over her. She stared at it vacantly, taken in by the monstrous skill by which the limbs had been built for their purpose. Papa had commented on their ‘near perfection’, an ironic choice of words. She could remember the spoken words as she read the dog-eared handwritten note written in her father’s distinctive hand resting innocently on the table. Her own hand reached out, but she jerked it away as she realised it was identical to the dead limb laid out on the table, a nauseated shudder running through her as she numbly watched her own hand flex powerfully, the hidden assimilation tubes ready to take life at her command…

“I think we’ve seen enough now.” Chakotay’s quiet voice, concerned yet authoritative, resounded in her dulled ears enough to bring her back, her gaze skittishly roaming around the lab until he took a firm grasp of the maligned hand she was still unconsciously clenching and unclenching and so forced her to focus on his face. “Larsen says he has all the data he needs, we can go now.”

Seven could only nod, letting him guide her back towards the door. Lars Henriksen cleared his throat unhappily when he saw his goddaughter’s ashen face. “I’m sorry.” He murmured honestly, reaching out for her other hand, “I know that, seeing this, you’ll find it hard to accept but your parents had nothing but the best intentions. We knew so little of the Borg then, some even doubted the Collective’s existence, but your parents truly believed that if we understood them properly we could help them, perhaps even free drones…” He paused and swallowed hard, his gaze misty, “I supposed you’ve proved that it is possible for drones to regain their lives…” He paused again as Seven  looked down, but persevered, “Although I know that Magnus and Erin never wanted anyone to have to take the lonely path you have Annika, but I know they’d be proud of you now.” He squeezed Seven’s hand when she didn’t answer and looked around the lab thoughtfully, “You know, the University needs more lab space, I’ll buy this place from you right now.” He said determinedly.

Seven’s pale face coloured rapidly, “I do not require remuneration…” She started, well aware of the fact that the lab, weighed down with technology more than a quarter of a century old, would be worse than useless to the University.

“Don’t be ridiculous Annika.” Henriksen cut her off sharply, “Your parents left this to provide for you, let me deal with this.” With that, he summoned Larsen in as a legal witness and began the process of purchasing the lab using his own personal funds, distractedly saying that the University would in turn buy it from him later.

* * *

 

Evening had truly settled on Gothenburg by the time Seven and Chakotay remerged together onto the city’s streets, having had a casual dinner with Dr Henriksen and his wife at their joint insistence in a small restaurant serving traditional fare, deep within the streets of wooden buildings that made the city’s bohemian Haga district famous even more than 500 years after the neighbourhood’s construction. “They’re a sweet couple.” Chakotay remarked as they found a central shopping street and started along it.

“Yes, it was a pleasant evening in the end.” Seven replied as she looked around curiously, her mood having lifted after an hour or so of peace from her legal entanglements and time together with Chakotay. It was getting late in the evening, most of the little boutique shops were closed up for the day but a few were still busy with late coming couples, excited women and patient men, weaving from jewellery stores to flower stands, many congregating at a chocolatier’s in the centre of the street. Gothenburg, probably due to its much smaller size, had embraced Valentine’s Day less ostentatiously but just as eagerly as San Francisco and Seven couldn’t help the feelings of inadequacy Irene had tried to shake from her returning with full force. If Chakotay had a _real, human_ girlfriend he’d be experiencing fun and romance right now rather than be holding her emotions together as she raked through the remaining fragments of her past life… She grimaced unhappily as her gaze caught the light streaming from a fancy lingerie shop having a ‘Valentine’s Day Sale’. Her face reddened in mortification as she thought back to what they’d both seen in the lab. If Chakotay ever saw her like that he’d see real examples of those implants and more, no amount of lace or artfully placed ribbon could make _that_ more appealing to a man…

“Seven, I asked if you’d heard back from Irene about the hotel?” Chakotay repeated his question, worried by her distant expression.

Seven shook her head to clear it, staring down at the pavement below her feet to avoid any more reminders of unachievable levels of romance. “Oh yes, she booked it successfully, it’s down the next street.”

Chakotay playfully gave her a tug, making her giggle despite herself. “Let’s go then.”

* * *

 

Seven couldn’t help but fall back a step as she entered the room the hotel reception had said Irene had booked for them, and also paid for. “Wow.” Chakotay breathed in amazement as he joined her inside, “I think we’re going to have to give Irene a cake or something for this.”

Seven nodded numbly as she took in their elegant surroundings. The hotel was a smart stone early 19th Century building, yet the room had been appointed to suit every modern taste while the décor itself remained classic, encompassing every shade of calming creams and rich browns. The view from the large window was impressive even at night, taking full advantage of the building’s third storey which allowed the view to stretch over most rooftops in this historical, skyscraper free, part of the city. Her attention was most caught however by the luxuriously plush king-size bed in the centre of the room, her heart beginning to pump harder with apprehension. Perhaps she should have thought of specifically asking Irene to book two rooms, or at least a twin, but her aunt must have made certain assumptions. She straightened her shoulders and answered him in a light-hearted tone; if he wasn’t uncomfortable then her fears were groundless. “I’ll bake her one as soon as I can…” She began, trailing off as she noticed a large, prettily wrapped bouquet of flowers resting on the bed. Curious, she picked up the small card attached to them, admiring the collection of lilacs, daises and snowdrops. A wry smile immediately pulled at her lips as she read the note:

_Annika,_

_Remember what I said about Valentine’s Day, just enjoy yourself._

_All my love,_

_Auntie Rini_

_PS. Don’t you dare try to pay me back for this room, it’s a gift._

Seven shook her head, but her smile stayed in place as she considered Irene’s advice of the week before, she hoped she was right. She was also grateful for her ‘Auntie Rini’s’, that had been her childish pronunciation of the name she remembered now, foresight in having the note handwritten in Swedish by the florist, she wasn’t sure she’d have wanted Chakotay to be able to read between the lines of what it said. Catching Chakotay’s curious expression as he approached her, Seven set the note down again and explained, “They’re from Aunt Irene, she says we’ve not to ‘dare paying her back for this room’.”

Chakotay chuckled at Seven’s perfect impersonation of Irene’s voice. “That’s great of her, but she’s also made me look bad for not getting you flowers today myself.” He said good-humouredly as he gave her a soft kiss on the lips, “I’ll do better next year, I promise.”

Seven’s head dipped, unconsciously beginning to wring her hands. “As will I.” she murmured thickly, keeping her face turned away from his slightly, “I fear that today has not fulfilled certain established expectations…” She started ruefully, looking down at herself regretfully. The clothes she was wearing, smart but plain black trousers paired with a navy sweater, were suitable for the business of earlier but weren’t exactly particularly inspiring and after their time in the lab were now crumpled and dusty. “I do not think…” She rubbed a hand briefly over her tired face, “…that helping me attend to these affairs today was what anyone would consider ‘romantic’…”

“Probably not.” Chakotay admitted softly as his hands moved to grasp her shoulders and gently pull her back round to face him fully, “But why would we care about what anyone else thinks about what we do?” Shame flickered across Seven’s strained blue eyes as the point sunk in but Chakotay stopped her from going into analysis mode by giving her shoulder another squeeze with one hand and tilting her face up with the other, “Listen Seven, I know Valentine’s Day is considered special, but what’s more important, one day of over the top gestures or a solid relationship for the rest of the year?” He studied her face intently, the faintest trace of a saddened smile on his lips, “I know you would have rather not been through all this today, I wish you hadn’t needed to, but you did and I’m glad I could be there for you, okay?”

“I understand.” Seven assured him in a whisper, leaning onto his chest lightly as he rhythmically rubbed a particularly uptight part of her lower back. He felt her smile ruefully into his shoulder as she murmured wryly, “I think my idea of Valentine’s Day has been somewhat skewed, I apologise.”

Chakotay chuckled again, “You’re not alone there, I don’t think many people who’ve grown up with it really understand what is expected of them.”

“Perhaps that is why they frantically purchase items they’ve never believed they need the rest of the year.” Seven mused thoughtfully.

“Maybe.” Chakotay agreed, stepping back from her slightly so he could look into her face again. In his eyes she looked as beautiful as ever, though the purple shadows of exhaustion and stress were vivid under her sky blue irises. “You look tired…” He murmured in concern, eyeing the bed then gesturing awkwardly towards the suite’s large sofa, “I can take the couch if you really need to rest…”

The bright flush that painted Seven’s cheeks for an instant made him think she’d shyly agree, but in the next moment she’d kissed him deeply, pulling back just as he’d begun to respond, “No.” She answered, her voice level and sure even as he felt her hands that were pulling him closer quiver in his. “I don’t want that.”

They walked backwards as one, kissing heatedly, but Chakotay purposefully slowed things down as he felt her sit down on the end of the bed, less frantic but more prolonged. Seven gasped in surprise as his hand that had been rubbing her back slid under her sweater and repeated the movement on her bare skin, his other hand soon running up and down her side. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, breathing heavily with a note of fear as well as desire, since she seriously expected him to draw back in disgust when he felt the metal protruding from her flesh, encasing her ribs, knotting up her spine. When those shocked pauses never came, his caresses constant and intensifying, she felt her whole body relax exponentially, it was as if she was melting into him. First she turned her face to press her lips to his throat, then to his face, an easy laugh escaping her when she moved to his mouth and felt his wide smile on hers.

Chakotay let her lie back when that kiss eventually ended, certain now that she was ready, that he wasn’t pushing, which had been his greatest fear and which had held him back until now. He joined her almost immediately, using the push off from his feet still on the floor to help them both shuffle up the bed, half hanging off it like this would get old pretty quick he knew. However, one of Seven’s high heels promptly caught on the bed’s chocolate brown throw and she narrowly avoiding kneeing him in the stomach as she tried to jerk free. She looked up at him, stricken, for a split second then laughed outright at his frustrated expression. Twisting away from her briefly, he reached down and tenderly unbuckled each shoe before tossing them aside to join his own on the floor, grinning impishly as she giggled girlishly at the touch. Finding where else she was ticklish would be a fun task for later…

Seven snapped her feet away from him quickly when she caught that mischievous glint in his eye, flipping onto her side so that they could face each other. He smoothly wrapped his arm around her back again until their chests were flush, but as they broke apart for air between kisses she tentatively reciprocated his earlier caresses and slid her human hand under his shirt, his hoarse groan of approval enough to give her the confidence to run her palm over his muscles. Her other hand, with clumsiness the enhanced fingers shouldn’t have had, began to unbutton the shirt as his open mouth roamed over her throat. He leaned back to help her gently pull the garment off altogether, pulling her into him encouragingly as she slowly began to kiss down his now naked torso. He sighed a little as he felt her freeze, stroking her hair, which he’d long since tugged free from its clip, reassuringly as he heard her swallow. “What happened?” she asked, her voice shaky with compassion as her fingers brushed the frightening scar which slashed brutally across his toned stomach.

Chakotay gave a dry laugh, “A near death experience. I was impaled by a piece of the Valjean’s command deck during a battle…must be almost ten years ago now.” He gazed down into her suddenly sombre eyes, “The medical treatment available for the Maquis wasn’t quite up to the Doctor’s standard, that was the best they could do at the time.” He sighed to himself, “I could’ve had the Doctor fix it I suppose, but it serves as a reminder that I’ve survived a lot.” He clasped Seven’s cybernetic hand and pressed the knuckles to his lips as he cupped her cheek, his fingers tracing lightly over the implant curving around her eye. “We all have scars Seven, every one of us.” He told her meaningfully.

“I know, I just…” Seven stopped, pressing her lips together in thought as she met his steady and, she saw now, openly adoring gaze. “Was my…self-consciousness so obvious?” she asked finally, shifting up the bed again to cuddle into him properly.

Chakotay took a moment to reply, smiling at her fondly as she looked back at him with guileless eyes. It was impossible for her to be coy, she was always genuine and he loved that. “Yes…” He answered slowly, “And it would be understandable, but trust me when I say that you’re not only beautiful…” His breathing grew heavier as led them both under the bedcovers, tucking her underneath him in one smooth movement and kissing her as he did so, “…but gorgeously sexy too.”

Seven’s eyebrows arched slightly even as relief flooded her, the honesty in his statement proved without doubt now that they were lying so close. She didn’t feel the need to reply with words, finding the only appropriate answer in looping her arm around his neck, continuing to kiss him even as his warm, sensual hands carefully guided her sweater over her head, then again having his fingers send tingling charged down her spine as he followed it from the base of her neck to the other end repeatedly in reassurance before unclipping her bra in one swift movement and casting it aside. He stared down at the lovely, trusting woman in his arms for a few long moments before lowering his forehead onto hers, glad to feel both of their chests heaving as one with anticipation. “Tonight is about what _you_ want.” He whispered lovingly, the words tickling her sensitised skin, “Just tell me to stop and I will…”

Seven curled both arms around his neck now, shuddering herself when she realised the shiver that had run over him as now bare, metal mottled of her cybernetic arm joining her human one had been a physical expression of desire rather than horror. “I know you would…” She replied confidently, turning into his ear to whisper an addition, “…but I also know I won’t want you to.”

* * *

 

Seven’s heavy lids fluttered open as the watery light of a winter dawn fell on her. One glance towards the window told her that it was still very early, they’d just forgotten to close the curtains last night, allowing day to pierce their comfortable cocoon more prematurely than she would have wished. Not that it wasn’t pleasant laying here, the after affects of last night appearing to be a cosy, floating sensation, her body unusually calm but highly sensitive at the same time. Her hair felt damp as she leaned back into the pillow, a lazy smile forming on her mouth as she felt Chakotay, cradling her from behind, their legs interlaced, his arm coiled around her waist, moan in protest at her movement and nuzzle the back of her neck. Laughing softly, she lifted his arm just enough to be able to flip onto her other side and face him. She saw at once that he was awake, half open brown eyes twinkling at her. “Good morning.” He mumbled, his hand reaching up to stroke her now wildly tousled hair, obviously amused by that unusual sight.

“Yes…” Seven replied teasingly, “Good morning, but I was under the impression on that any time before at least 0600 hours was considered too early to really be morning.”

“ _Before_ 0600 hours?” Chakotay asked disbelievingly, letting out a groan as he saw the betraying open curtains. “What time is it then?”

“0544.” Seven replied promptly, her eyebrows arching high as she heard Chakotay’s stomach rumble within a few seconds of that information. “Not too early for the replicator then?” she joked, automatically starting to rise but wincing in pain as she did so.

Chakotay quickly pulled her back towards the warmth and protection of his body. “You’re not going anywhere…” He teased, his voice suddenly very serious as he kissed her shoulder blade lightly. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Seven answered patiently, wondering how she could have thought for a second he’d miss her discomfort. “My body is just adapting, that’s all.” She could sense his guilt building as his grip tightened around her and decided to bring it to a halt. “For the better.” She clarified.

Chakotay exhaled a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding, then grinned at her conspiratorially. “Why don’t we leave the replicator for a while and just stay in bed until room service can bring a homemade breakfast?” he suggested.

“Agreed.” Seven replied swiftly. Honestly she didn’t think her legs would support her quite yet if she tried to get up. “At least two more hours rest would be to our benefit.”

“Definitely.” Chakotay admitted, knowing that he as well as Seven would need to take it slow this morning. He wasn’t exactly used to making love three times in the space of a few hours, not that he was complaining. Seven huddled into him and they lay in contented silence for a few moments before he sensed her studying him intently. “What?” he asked softly.

Now it was her turn to have the wicked glint in her eye. “This isn’t just limited to Valentine’s Day is it?”

Chakotay responded by tickling her in the side until she buckled under the duvet. “I’d go insane _long_ before next year if that were the case, and so would every other man!” he retorted laughingly.

“Understood.” Seven murmured in a placating tone as she leaned into kiss him again. “Two hours is an inefficiently long time to rest if we’re both awake.” She pointed out wryly.

Chakotay made her shriek with surprise as he rolled onto his back and brought her along with him. “Well, we can’t risk inefficiency can we Crewman, not on the day after Valentine’s Day?” he joked huskily.


End file.
